


The water's spirit

by Amygdala



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Spirit - Freeform, Tsundere Mikleo, purehearted sorey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-15 03:52:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5770234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amygdala/pseuds/Amygdala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sorey's mission is to save Elysia by the blessing of the lake's spirit.  The spirit is less than compassionate towards his pleas, and just wants to be left alone</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Sorey pulled himself up the next ledge on the mountain top, the stone under his finger tips just rough enough to grip in leverage. His simple travel clothing clung to his skin as his muscled tensed in his efforts. They had been dampened from the slight morning shower, and now weighed more than he would like, but not enough to slow his pace. The sooner he reached the top of the outcropping, the better.

“You have to seek the help of the water spirit before the season is lost completely.” 

The severity of the words of the elder echoed in his mind, pulsing and pushing him forward with each formation. The bow next to his pack bounced against his back when he leaped, the weight of it reminding him of the hopes it carried with him. 

It would be a sign that he was of Elysia. He was trustworthy. He was a friend. 

His desperate, exhausting trek over the past few days rewarded him at this last climb. The ground leveled out into a slightly hilly woods. This was the place. 

His relief bubbled up to elation in his stomach, giving his tired limbs a burst of energy. It was just a ways into the center of the woods to go. 

He ignored the snap of branches and snags onto his clothing as he bounded through the remaining distance to the lake. His feet landed on flat ground, avoiding holes and rocks with practiced ease. His eyes spotted sure footing as readily as when they glowed upon the opportunity for exploration. He was in his element. 

The woods thinned to reveal the lake, the destination of his quest.

His chest heaved in complaint at his abrupt increase of activity, the rest of his body catching up with his enthusiasm. His lungs expanded, drinking in the clean air that surrounded the mountaintop as his eyes greedily drank in the rare exhibit in front of him. 

To be honest, he wasn't sure if this was a lake. The records all stated the area of interest was a lake. The depth and size of the body water indicated more of a pond. However, there was no mistaking that this was indeed, the place of record. The clean waters lent themselves to visions of glass, the gray rock clearly visible below the depths. If he wasn't mistaken, the formations looked like bedrock, which mad absolutely no sense in the context of a mountaintop lake. Truly fascinating. 

“You have my bow.”

The voice was cold, airy, observant. 

Sorey had known he was going to run into the spirit soon, but this knowledge still did not prepare him for the sudden appearance and foreign voice. He jumped instinctively, but pushed all of his will into restraining his impulse to reach for the weapons on his back and at his side. 

Instead, he turned to face the spirit, following the voice that had sounded behind him. 

Sorey's eyes first caught to the small wrist, holding a pale hand against the tree the spirit stood next to. His eyes traveled up the length of the arm to the body it belonged to. Loose fabric covered the spirit's chest and draped down it's body. The shape of the chest was distinctly male, as ambiguous as some of the other features seemed. Sorey's eyes then moved up to the spirit's face. 

Light colored hair framed his face, the tips turning to the stain of the sky. His eyes were the color of a flower. Sorey knew he had seen this flower before, but he couldn't name it. Or maybe the flowers were the colors of the spirit's eyes. The sharpness of the spirit's gaze suggested sovereignty over all hues presented in his form. 

He was unearthly, enigmatic, unorthodox.

And beautiful.


	2. Setting up Camp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The spirit does not take kindly to Sorey's arrival.

Sorey stared. He couldn't help himself. The ethereal appearance of the spirit was infinitely more fascinating than the misplaced bedrock. He eagerly studied the slight features. His small limbs suggested the bones of a bird, as if the slightest pressure could fracture them. However, Sorey had no doubt in his mind that this spirit could easily overpower the largest man in Elysia. 

The spirit's fingers tensed against the tree under the vigorous scrutiny. Brief confused flashed across his face, and then his eyebrows drew together into a scowl. 

“This is not a place for humans,” the spirit growled. 

The statement was clearly meant to be intimidating. The spirits tightly gripped teeth showed through as he spoke. Sorey somehow just found himself all the more entranced. Just the mere presence of the spirit meant he was one of very few who managed to glimpse this area in person. It was a rare treasure, a true treat. His excitement was barely contained beneath his skin, crawling around and itching to be out. 

But there was a reason he was here, and it was not to be forgotten. 

Sorey sank to his knees, then lowered further, sitting onto the backs of his ankles. His palms pushed into the soft dirt beneath him. He adopted the aura of utmost subservience. 

“I need your blessing to save my village.” 

Seconds passed in silence, but Sorey dare not look up from his position of humility. 

“When I return, you'd better be gone from here.” 

Pressure was released from the atmosphere. The spirit had disappeared. Sorey's chest contracted as he sighed out the breath he hadn't realized that he had been holding. 

The meeting had gone as well as he had expected it to, but that didn't stop him from being disappointed with the welcome he had received. 

Instead of properly heading the warning, he went about preparing the area for his extended stay. He dropped the heavy pack from his back near the base of one of the trees forming the inner ring of the lake's encapsulation. He would most likely need a place to sleep, judging by the negotiations earlier. 

Luckily for him, there was no shortage of wood in the area. In addition to a decent amount collected for potential firewood, Sorey found several sturdy, relatively straight branches that would be passable for the frame of his shelter. 

After the time consuming task of lumber selection came the process of actually moving his prizes back to the lake. It was tedious work, but Sorey was glad for it. Busy hands kept his mind distracted by the ticking of the timer for his quest. Rain was going to be needed quickly if Elysia was to produce for next market. 

When the wood was in place, Sorey assembled his elected branches into the shelter frame. It wasn't quite tall enough for him to stand under, but there was more than enough room for himself and his supplies. 

He retrieved the pack from the nearby tree, clicking open the clasp on the front. With measured force, Sorey pulled out the tightly packed tarp from the bloated pack and carefully unwrapped. On the trek up to the mountain, the tarp had doubled as a wrap to protect the offerings he had brought to win the spirit's favor. Now that he was unlikely to be moving his pack, it was safe to set them inside without the padding. 

Sorey effortlessly flung the tarp over the frame and wrapped it tight. It was unlikely to keep out any stray animals, but it would do for keeping out the lighter elements, and that was good enough for him. 

He carefully placed the offerings at the back of his shelter, observing each one reverently. This offerings carried the hopes of Elysia, and he would not let them go to waste. He would make the spirit listen to his plea if it took everything he had.

Upon the completion of his chores, Sorey found himself parched. There hadn't been much in the way of water supplies on the way up, and what he had found had been entirely inadequate. 

With no small amount of circumspection, Sorey approached the lake once again. In light of his recent dehydration, the crystal clear waters now seemed more tantalizing than the juiciest meat cut from the fattest animals. Sorey felt himself drawn to the lake, like a bee to a flower. He could already feel the coolness on his tongue. 

He knelt down beside the lake, leaning forward. His fingers touched the surface and broke through, the chill sending a shiver down his spine. He cupped his hands together, scooping up the water to bring to his lips. It glided down his throat easily, sending messages of relief throughout his body. Greedily, he leaned forward again, eager for another sip. 

“I see you're still here,” came the deadpanned voice from above his shoulder. 

Sorey jumped, falling forward, his face plunging into the water before him. He immediately pulled himself out, gasping for air and choking on the water that had forced itself down his windpipe. He coughed ungracefully and turned to look at the spirit looming above him. 

If he wasn't mistaken, there was a small grin playing at the edge of the spirit's soft lips. He was amused by Sorey's plunge into his lake. 

Always one to take embarrassment in stride, Sorey considered this a fortuitous accident. He'd much rather have the spirit amused by him than attempting to send him away. 

“I have--” Sorey started, but stopped, turning to another cough fit. The spirit stepped back a pace, looking slightly concerned. 

“I have an offering for you!” Sorey quickly spat out, before enough cough could take his voice. 

“Oh?” the spirit responded, pulling himself up to his full height and raising an eyebrow at Sorey. “Let's see it then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments make me happeh


	3. Complication

Sorey blinked a few times, the spirit's words settling into his skull. He launched himself forward, eager to not waste this opportunity. His heel dug into the gravel at the force of his movement, scattering a few pebbles, splashing them harmlessly into the lake.

Briefly he stumbled from a harsh step on another patch of loose gravel. He caught himself with his palm, pushing it into the ground beneath, and recovered quickly, continuing his sprint as though nothing had happened.

The spirit watched this frenzy with slight concern, his eyebrows lowering in suspicious confusion. His head tilted almost imperceptibly to the side, silken strands of hair falling slightly against the angle.

"It's just in here!" Sorey called out, diving into his makeshift encampment. The front of the tarp is flung out of the way with a loud fwap. Sorey's hands enclosed around the first offering he saw, snatching it up, holding it tight.

He turned back out, retracing his haphazard path with the offering clutched against his chest. He stepped into the small dip in the ground his near tumble had created, the difference in height jolting his adrenaline again, but at the same time restoring him some control over his frenzy.

He loosened the death grip on the offering, pulling it away from his chest and outward in front of him. His hurried steps diminished into a reasonable, reverent stride. He was presenting an offering to a spirit, not tossing a ball back in Elysia.

The spirit stood in front of him, clear eyes betraying nothing, arms folded against his slender chest. Even now Sorey couldn't stop his eyes from quickly running up and down the beautiful form in front of him. There was no one like this back in Elysia. Sorey quickly averted his gaze towards the ground to avoid being caught staring and offending the spirit once again.

He sank to his knee and lifted his arms, his head facing the ground, presenting a picture of humility, not daring to move. It was up to the spirit to choose whether or not to accept.

The spirit reached out slowly, touching the tips of his fingers to the offering. In Sorey's hands was a carefully folded fur blanket. From the appearance and texture of the blanket, probably wild board fur, sewn together with impressive craftsmanship. The spirit's expression soured.

Sorey lifted his head in confusion as the spirit ripped the blanket from his hand and threw it back at him, filling Sorey's halfway open mouth with boar hairs.

"This is not an offering from you!" the spirit snarled. "This is not yours to give!

Sorey's throat felt as though he had swallowed a handful of dry gravel, his tongue heavy and useless. He held up his hands in an instinctual submissive gesture at the indignation displayed in front of him.

"If you would like to give such an offering, take your blade to your scalp and give me your own bloodied hide!" the spirit spat angrily.

The spirit's anger quite literally bubbled over, his skin turning translucent. With a huff, his entire body became liquid and splash down onto the stones below, the spirit's present abruptly being removed.

He was gone.

Sorey sank down, his wrists against the ground, the reality setting in. Anger and despair mingled in the pit of his stomach. That had been has his chance, and he had failed.

He slammed his fist into the ground in frustration, creating new abrasions on the side of his hand to compliment the ones on his palm. A couple of droplets of blood dripped onto the stones.

Summoning his willpower, he hauled his guilt laden body from the ground and moved to retrieve the fur. There was a small bloody print of his palm in the corner, a testament to his clumisness. No wonder the spirit had rejected the offering. He was an embarrassment to Elysia.

Tears stung the corners of his eyes, but he drew his emotions back, wiping them away with the back of his wrist.

At least the rejected offering would provide him some comfort during his camp stay. He moved back to his tent, laying the fur along the bottom like a makeshift sleeping bag. He'd probably only be here one night, but the spirit certainly wasn't going to take the blanket.

The stars twinkled lightly in the clear night sky, but Sorey saw none of them as be buried himself into the fur, trying to disappear. Fitful sleep overtook misery, and he knew no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sry, I work slow, I still luv u guise


	4. Discovery

A soft clink broke the silence of the cool midnight air, and Sorey was instantly alert, his hand flying to the sword he had lain beside himself before settling in for sleep.

Except, his sword was gone. He was weaponless. He was vulnerable.

He lay motionless, his hand clutched uselessly against the fur where the sword had once been, the blood draining from his face. Was he already dead? Had the spirit come to repay him for his insult?

His breath was quick with anxiety, but muted. A few moments had passed, but nothing had happened. Only a soft breeze gently nudged at the sides of his tent now and then, attempting purchase of his campsite. He was not under attack.

Carefully, Sorey gathered his resolve, peeling himself from the warm spot on the blanket he had nuzzled into existence. He brought himself up to a sitting position without making a sound, his body coiled, ready to spring at the slightest hint of danger.

Another quiet clink. There was something outside his tent. Something nearby.

Another few long, tense seconds, and no one was invading his sanctuary.

He began moving, one limb after another, muscles carefully constringed. Each stretch sounded like creaking hinges in his adrenaline filled eardrums. He was on all fours, poised like a beast, crawling towards the front of his tent.

There was a small slit in the front flap, being gently teased by the breeze. He leaned forward, stretching his knee from the ground, resting his weight on his ankle. He lifted his arm to gently push aside the opening, moving his right eye to peer out into the open night to get a look at what had awoken him.

A beam of soft moonlight from the cloudless night draped over the figure outside, illuminating it clearly. It was the spirit of the lake.

The spirit was crouched on the ground, leaning forward, bare feet digging into the stones, knees pressed against his chest. He was leaning over something on the ground in front of him.

A sword! The spirit had Sorey's sword!

But the spirit's expression was not wrath or animosity. If Sorey had to guess, it was probably… curiosity?

After studying the spirit another moment, Sorey was sure it was curiosity. He knew that slight glean in wide eyes coupled with intense focus. He knew he'd worn that expression nearly all his life.

The spirit leaned over farther, his light clothing bunching forward, his hair falling around his pale face in a frame of silk. He lifted his arm, reaching out to brush his fingertips lightly on the engravings in the iron. His lips formed silent words, reading out the runes that Sorey himself had never thought to research the meaning behind.

Sorey watched, entranced by the spirit's graceful movements, and the sight of his skin shrouded by the quiet moonlight. He kept his stillness unconsciously and instinctively, scarcely breathing.

The spirit reached out again, this time carefully pulling the sword up to examine the hilt. HIs bright eyes greedily drank in the decorational features of Sorey's weapon. His fingers traced along the lines the wrapped leather had formed. His eyes glowed like purple embers. He was positively fascinated.

Of course, it was then Sorey's ankle supporting his weight decided it had enough of Sorey's absentmindedness. Sorey's knee fell into the blanket with a quiet thump.

The spirit dropped the sword to the ground, the harsh bounces piercing the peacefule night air. His face snapped abruptly to Sorey, their gazes meeting with intense electricity.

For only a brief moment, Sorey saw the spirit's eyes now widened in panic instead of curiousity, before once again the spirit melted into clear water and disappeared into the stones beneath him.

Sorey took his first deep breath since he had peered outside of the tent, his taunt muscles relaxing gratefully. He moved up and forward, leaving his tent to retrieve his pilfered sword.

He reached down, picking the weapon up and carefully turning it in his palms, observing its beauty and intrigue from the eyes of the spirit. It was truly a beautiful piece.

It wasn't the meeting Sorey would have hoped for, but now at least he knew for sure the spirit was curious about humans.


End file.
